


Insubordinate

by Blank_Page



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Castiel (Supernatural), Alpha Dean, Alpha/Alpha, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Dom Castiel, Dom/sub, Enemies to Lovers, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Knotting Dildos, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Pack Dynamics, Panty Kink, Power Dynamics, Sub Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 10:44:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13098441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blank_Page/pseuds/Blank_Page
Summary: Castiel Novak is quite literally the bane of his existence.Dean doesn’t even know what the hell his problem is. Yeah, sure, Dean’sa littlejealous of how easy-going Castiel’s life is, and he may or may not act like he doesn’t enjoy being in Castiel’s presence; which iskind ofa lie because hesort oflikes seeing the way Castiel acts around people that aren’t him, but he doesn’t hate the guy. He’s never gone out of his way to bother him. Castiel just seems to harbor hate for him for some unknown reason. He’s always cold to Dean, taciturn and stern, like a disapproving uncle or something. It’s weird and annoying, and hehatesit.





	Insubordinate

**Author's Note:**

> i'm a little stuck on my other story so i decided i'd try to write something else! and then this happened lol i'm sorry for how rough this is. i haven't given it much editing. also i'm not quite sure about the title, i might change it. enjoy :)
> 
> **This story has an open-ended finish, and there is no current plan to add more. Keep that in mind if you choose to read on.**

Dean rolls the window up in his car, frowning when he feels the cool, gentle breeze that had steadily been drifting into the car disappear. He turns his car off and steps out of his car with a beer case in hand. He manually locks the door and heads up the short stone path to the porch, knocking on the front door. It’s their weekly show night, and he’s a little later than the time he usually comes. He just got off work an hour ago and had to head home and shower before coming out here.

The door opens while he’s watching an ant crawl around on the porch, and he’s greeted by a big, tight hug from his best friend, Charlie. “Hey, Charles,” he says, laughing and returning her hug, wrapping his arm tightly around her and kissing the side of her head.

“You’re late, jerk,” she says, letting go of him and stepping back with a grin. She gestures him inside, kicking the door shut and locking it behind him after he steps inside.

“Just got off work,” he says, toeing his shoes off. Charlie frowns at his words but doesn’t get a chance to say anything because Benny strolls out of the family room and glomps him in a bear hug. “Hey, Benny,” he laughs, returning the hug after Charlie takes the beer from his hand.

“Sup, brother?” Benny says, stepping back. He keeps an arm wrapped around his shoulders and leads him into the family room, grabbing Charlie by the wrist on his way, dragging her along with them.

“Nothing much. You?”

“Same old, same old,” Benny says. They plop down on the couch, Dean tucked into Benny’s side. It’s warm, so he doesn’t bother moving. He’s comfortable here, with Benny and Charlie and Sam - wherever the hell he is.

Ah, speak of the devil and he shall arrive. Sam strides into the room barely five seconds later. “Hey, Dean,” he says, dropping down into the single seat, stretching his legs out in front of him.

“Hey, bitch.”

“Jerk.”

Charlie whacks him on the head as she walks by, sitting down beside him and stretching her legs out over his and Benny’s laps. “Language,” she says after swallowing whatever the hell she put in her mouth. Dean rolls his eyes, shooting her a falsely angry glare as he rubs his head. “Cas will be here soon,” she says after, handing Dean a cold beer from the cooler she placed beside the coffee table. Dean frowns at the mention of Castiel, twisting open his beer and swallowing a few big mouthfuls, sighing to himself.

Castiel Novak is quite literally the bane of his existence.

He’s devastatingly handsome, tall and broad-shouldered, well-off and philanthropic. He’s older than Dean by several years, the oldest in their group at age thirty-five. He’s a pack alpha to a large group of people, including Benny and his family, Charlie, and Sam - who decided he didn’t want to be under the rule of their father anymore and sought protection from him with Castiel’s help. He’s usually kind, and loyal and strict and full of patience and level-headed and almost always appears at-ease even if he’s not. Castiel Novak is everything Dean wishes that he himself was.

And he’s also constantly butting heads with Dean.

Dean doesn’t even know what the hell his problem is. Yeah, sure, Dean’s _a little_ jealous of how easy-going Castiel’s life is, and he may or may not act like he doesn’t enjoy being in Castiel’s presence; which is _kind of_ a lie because he _sort of_ likes seeing the way Castiel acts around people that aren’t him, but he doesn’t hate the guy. He’s never gone out of his way to bother him. Castiel just seems to harbor hate for him for some unknown reason. He’s always cold to Dean, taciturn and stern, like a disapproving uncle or something. It’s weird and annoying, and he _hates_ it.

Sighing to himself again, Dean sips from his beer as Charlie turns on an old episode of Blood Brothers, a supernatural show with two brothers and an angel who drive around America hunting monsters. It’s dramatic and has some shitty writing at times but it’s fairly entertaining so Dean can’t really complain; plus the angel’s hot and just his type.

* * *

The episode’s almost done by the time Castiel knocks on the front door. Charlie jumps from the couch and races for the door, eager to see him, Sam hot on her heels. Dean rolls his eyes and shuffles away from Benny, clearing his throat and sitting up straighter. Benny gets up too after a second and heads around the corner to greet Castiel.

Several minutes later, they all come around the corner with grins on their faces. Castiel brought pizza. Charlie grabs plates from the kitchen and they all dish out their pizza before sitting back down. Benny returns to his spot, and so does Sam, but Charlie moves to stretch out across the loveseat, leaving Castiel to sit beside Dean on the three-person couch. “Dean,” he says as a greeting, sitting down beside him, accepting a beer from Charlie with a thankful smile.

“Castiel,” he mumbles bitterly.

“Shh,” Charlie immediately says, loading up the newest episode from Game of Thrones. “Showtime.” Charlie hops off the couch to turn the lights off then hits play on the remote when she returns, munching on her pizza as the opening begins.

Dean shuffles uncomfortably, biting into his slice of pizza, glancing at Castiel from the corner of his eye. He looks tired, and like he just got off work. His hair is a mess, but then again, it always is. He’s still wearing his pristine, form-fitting work suit. It’s a charcoal grey three-piece today, with a white dress shirt and dark red tie. He looks good.

He watches as Castiel quietly sets his plate on the coffee table and stands up, shrugging out of his blazer and his suit vest. He sits back down, laying the two articles of clothing over the armrest closest to him, loosening his tie and unbuttoning his collar. Dean unconsciously licks his lips when he starts removing his cufflinks and undoing the single button on each shirt cuff, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows. He pockets the cufflinks then picks up his plate again, stretching his legs out and crossing them at the ankle, relaxing back against the couch and beginning to eat.

Fuck.

Dean forces his attention back to the screen, angrily biting into his pizza. Stupid asshole. Stupid sexy asshole. _Stupid fucking sexy asshole._ Dean keeps cursing at him in his head, barely able to concentrate on the episode. He’ll just have to watch it again at home.

* * *

They’re in Dean’s apartment today because it’s his turn to host their show night. There are only two more episodes of Game of Thrones left for this season, and they’re all more than a little sad about it.

Dean places the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table in his little living room, making sure the cooler’s packed full with enough beers for the four of them. Benny’s at work tonight because they’re short on EMT’s at the moment, but he says he doesn’t mind them watching the show without him.

Someone knocks on his door, so Dean heads to answer it. He turns the handle and pulls it open, fully expecting Charlie or Sam to be the one behind it. Instead, it’s Castiel. He blinks at Dean, head tilting to the side. Dean clenches his jaw for a second. “Hello, Dean,” Castiel says, sounding kind of… irritated.

“Ya, ya,” he mumbles. He steps away from the door and stalks back into his apartment, heading for the kitchen. Castiel enters his home, shutting the door behind himself. He follows after Dean, looking hesitant as he stands in the doorway of the kitchen. “What?” Dean snaps, turning to glare at him.

“Nothing?” Castiel says, eyebrows furrowing with confusion, eyes dancing with disappointment. “How are you, Dean?”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Fan-friggin’-tastic,” he says. “I’d ask how you are but I don’t particularly care, so-” he cuts himself off and shrugs. Castiel straightens his back and shoots Dean a glare, jaw clenching tight and eyes narrowing. Dean grins cheekily at him and walks into the living room, plopping down on the couch, stretching his legs out across the other two seats.

Castiel walks in after him, glancing at his legs, before hesitantly sitting down on the floor, just to the side of the coffee table. Dean only has a three-person couch in his living room, and he usually drags the wooden chair in from his guest bedroom, but he’s not feeling very hospitable right now so he doesn’t bother.

* * *

Charlie charges in his apartment like she owns the place, not bothering to even knock on the door. Sam is hot on her heels, carrying two cases of beer. “Hello-” Charlie cuts herself off as she sets into the room, grocery bags with snacks in her hands. Dean scrambles off the couch, watching as her eyes immediately drop to where Castiel is standing from the floor. Charlie shoots him a dirty glare, dropping the bags to the floor, and storms off into the guest bedroom, loudly dragging the wooden chair from within across the floor.

“There,” she says. Castiel wraps her in a warm hug when she lets go of the chair, pressing a kiss to the side of her head, whispering something in her ear. She mumbles something back, shooting him a small smile. “Come here, dumbass,” she says to Dean, stepping away from Castiel. She hugs him tight around the neck, flicking the tip of his ear. “Don’t be such an ass to him,” she says quietly to him.

Dean catches sight of Sam and Castiel embracing near the entrance of the room. His brother is a traitor. “Whatever,” Dean mumbles, aware that he sounds like a bratty child. Charlie huffs at him and plops down in the corner of the couch, taking a beer from Sam as he steps closer to them. Sam claps him on the back, not bothering to go in for a hug, knowing Dean will just brush him off.

Charlie grabs Castiel’s wrist and drags him to sit down in the middle of the couch. He sits down at the same time that Sam does, leaving nothing but the uncomfortable wooden chair for Dean to sit on. Charlie grins at him, vicious, and wiggles her eyebrows towards the chair. Dean plops down on it, wincing when there’s no give, and squirms around. Charlie grabs the remote and queues up the newest episode of Game of Thrones.

Dean takes the beer Charlie offers him, twisting the cap off, tossing it onto the table. He takes a deep, long gulp from the bottle, letting out a quiet sigh once he swallows. He lowers the beer in his hand, resting the bottom on the top of his thigh. Dean glances at them sitting on the couch, Charlie and Sam pressed tightly into Castiel’s sides, his arms wrapped loosely around their shoulders. It’s domestic, and pack-like, and sweet, and makes Dean wish that he was there with them. Pressed up close to him, curled up into his side, soothed by the protective waves oozing off of him, breathing in his scent of cinnamon and- _fuck_.

Dean swallows thickly, snapping his eyes away from them, glaring at the screen. Dean’s an alpha, he doesn’t need a pack-alpha to make him feel protected. He’s not his little brother, he’s not mushy and girly and weak; he can keep himself in check just fine. He shifts on the firm chair, his ass already aching a little less than ten minutes into the episode. It’s torture, he doesn’t know how Castiel sits on this thing every time it’s Dean’s turn to host.

“C’mon, Castiel,” Dean says a couple minutes later. “Switch with me.” They all glance over at him, Castiel frowning as he studies him.

“Of course,” Castiel says a couple seconds later, moving to stand, pulling his arms away. Charlie clutches at him, pulling him back into her side.

“Don’t-” she says quietly. She pauses the show, looking at him pleadingly. “I wanna sit beside you, Cas,” she continues. Dean grits his teeth, wondering if she really wants him beside her, or just wants to torture Dean more.

“Sam-” Dean tries.

“We’re bonding, Dean,” Sam interrupts, sinking back down into Castiel’s side. “Just suck it up. Cas sits there all the time.” Charlie clicks the play button again, submerging them back into the land of Westeros. Dean clenches his hand tight around the bottle’s neck in his grip, glaring daggers at all of them. Castiel glances at him over top of Charlie’s head, looking a little guilty. Dean snorts and stands up, storming out of the room and into the kitchen. He slams his beer down on the table and snatches the half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels from one of the bottom cupboards. He hops up onto the counter, twisting the cap open.

The bottle is suddenly yanked from his hands, the cap twisted back into place. “So that’s it?” Castiel says blandly, sounding disappointed. “You can’t handle sitting in a wooden chair, while I comfort two of my pack members, so you turn to whisky?”

“Comfort them from what?” Dean snaps right back, reaching for the bottle in Castiel’s hands. Castiel steps back, placing it on a counter on the opposite side of the small kitchen.

“That doesn’t concern you,” Castiel says firmly. “Each of their matters is between them and me.” Castiel crosses his arms over his chest, sighing with clear irritation. “You and I aren’t on very good terms, but I had thought we could at least be civil with each other, considering how many mutual friends we have. I had even assumed you would be understanding and accepting, of a pack member’s need for their pack-alpha, being an alpha yourself.”

“Fuck off,” Dean snaps, sliding off the counter and walking closer to Castiel. He reaches for the bottle, only to have his wrist grabbed tightly by Castiel. Dean reaches his free hand out, shoving it against Castiel’s chest, watching him stumble backward with a look of surprise. Dean snatches the bottle from the counter, and heads for his bedroom, anger burning beneath his skin, curling the fingers of his hands into tight fists.

“Dean-” Castiel sounds so angry, so annoyed, so disgusted, and- and-

“Fuck you,” Dean says loudly, spinning on his heel and stalking towards him. Castiel steps back several times, matching his footsteps until Dean comes to a stop three feet from him. “You don’t get to be disappointed and angry with me, asshole,” he snarls, hands trembling. He hears Charlie pause the show, and her and Sam’s footsteps as they come to investigate the argument brewing between them.

“What now?” Sam asks, sounding tired. Castiel raises an eyebrow at Dean, lips pressing into a thin line; he looks like he’s repeating Sam’s words without speaking.

“Dean,” Charlie says quietly. “Come on, don’t be like this-”

“Like, what?” Dean snaps at her, turning gaze to her. Charlie bristles, glancing at Castiel quickly, like she was scared, and shuffling half an inch closer to Sam. Scared? Of him? Great, what did he fuck up now? Dean snorts and storms past them to the living room, plopping down in the wooden chair. He twists the cap on the whisky bottle, taking a deep sip from within it, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Let’s just go,” Sams says, sounding sad now. “I’ll talk to you later, Cas. Text me tomorrow, Dean, okay?”

“Whatever,” he says, staring glumly at the frozen image on his TV screen. The front door opens, and closes firmly, loudly, as Sam and Charlie make their exit from his shitty apartment. Castiel walks slowly into the living room, standing beside Dean, facing the screen as well. He steps in front of Dean, walking to the couch, and sinks down into the worn seat closest to where Dean’s sitting.

Neither of them say anything for a while, watching the TV go to the screensaver, and then turn off as the fifteen-minute inactive timer kicks in. The whole time, Dean takes small sips from the bottle of whisky, relishing in the burn of the alcohol as it pools first in his mouth, then slides down his throat to settle in his stomach.

“It’s your fault they left,” Dean finally says, breaking the stifling silence that has settled between them. He knows it’s not Castiel’s fault they left, he knows that it’s his own doing, he knows it’s all his fault. Dean knows that he shouldn’t have been such a little bitch to them, shouldn’t have scared Charlie, shouldn’t have made Sam feel bad. He knows all that, and still, he can’t help but blame Castiel for making them walk out of his apartment door.

Castiel snorts. “My fault?” he says, low and quiet and menacing. There’s something steely and cold in Castiel’s voice now; it sends shivers racing up and down Dean’s spine. Dean glances at Castiel as he stands up slowly, his shoulders squaring, his spine straightening as he draws himself up to his full height. He turns silently on his heel, staring down at Dean with disdain. “If you can’t even admit that it’s your own fault, then I shouldn’t waste any more of my time trying to create a peaceful acquaintanceship with someone as ridiculous as you.”

“Fuck you,” Dean snarls, the bottle falling from his grip, crashing to the floor and shattering, alcohol splattering everywhere. He lunges for Castiel and taking him down to the floor, slamming his fist into his jaw. Castiel growls at him from deep in his chest and pushes him off with surprising strength. “Stupid fucking-”

Castiel’s fist crashes into his jaw, cutting off his words. Dean groans, falling to the side and delivers a sharp kick to Castiel’s ribs. He barely grunts at the blow, and that just pisses Dean off more. Castiel is on him in seconds, he grabs him by the front of his shirt and slams him into the ground, pressing his forearm against his collarbones, his knee digging into Dean’s lower abdomen.

“Enough,” he snaps down at him, his blue eyes swirling with dark alpha red. He looks down at Dean with such disappointment, contempt, and anger, that his chest physically hurts. Dean grits his teeth and punches him in the side, making him choke with surprise and relax his body a little in shock. Dean pushes him off and pins him to the floor, arms at his side. Dean wraps his hands around Castiel’s throat, squeezing tightly and sneering down at him.

Castiel sucks in a big, slow breath and rams his knee into Dean’s ass and lower back, dislodging him. They scramble across the floor until Castiel somehow manages to push Dean onto his stomach and pull his arms behind him and press his hands against the middle of his back. He sits on his ass and leans down, biting into Dean’s nape firmly.

It’s shameful for an alpha to bite another alpha’s neck.

Dean bristles, surprised and somewhat horrified. Then, unable to stop himself, Dean loosens his clenched hands, cheeks flaming red, slumps to the ground, and whimpers softly. Castiel freezes against his back and slowly lets go of his arms, pulling his teeth away from his neck. Dean doesn’t dare move. He closes his eyes tightly and waits, wondering if Castiel is going to laugh at him for submitting, or worse, run and tell all the other people that know them both.

Castiel doesn’t say anything for several more minutes, then he stands up and backs away from him. Dean listens as he collects his things and opens the front door, hesitating for just a moment before stepping out and shutting the door behind himself. Dean opens his eyes, staring across the floor to the mess of alcohol and glass.

* * *

Dean’s so embarrassed that he wants to curl up in a hole in the ground and be buried in dirt and left to stay there until he dies. He’s so fucking pathetic. He can’t believe his body would betray him like that, and yet he can because _it did_. He’s so stupid, he’s so ashamed, and he’s so bitter. He’s so angry that Castiel would even _dare_ bite him.

Dean sinks down further into his seat, staring out of the windshield to the closed garage door in front of his car. It’s another of their show nights, and this time, Castiel is hosting at his house. Dean wonders if it’s too late to cancel, send Charlie or Sam or Benny a text saying that he can’t make it. But they know him, they know he gets off work at six, that he doesn’t have anything else to do.

He sucks it up, pushing his door open and stepping out of his car. He slams the door shut and heads for the front door, skipping up the three steps to stand on the porch. He knocks on the door loudly, shoving his hands into his pockets and breathing deeply. It takes almost a minute, but the door opens to reveal Castiel.

Dean holds his breath, unable to lift his eyes to stare at that man’s face. He keeps his gaze on Castiel’s chest, wondering if he’s going to say something about the last time they saw each other. Castiel clears his throat and steps to the side. “Come in,” he says in a monotone. Dean lets out the breath he was holding and steps inside. He toes his shoes off, shrugging out of his jacket. Castiel disappears back into the living room without waiting for him.

Dean winces and walks in after him. Everyone else is already here, so they were just waiting for him to arrive. “Hi, Dean,” Benny’s wife, Andrea says, immediately standing up and wrapping him in a hug, pressing a kiss to his cheek. There’s a huge mess of blankets and pillows on the floor, the coffee table pushed to the side to make room. There’s a fire going, roaring hot and violent across from where they are on the floor. The TV is on above the fireplace, paused to an episode of Blood Brothers.

Andrea lets go of him and sits back down, curling up against Benny, who is resting his head on Castiel’s thigh. Castiel is leaning back against the large sectional, legs stretched out in front of him, Sam is pressing against him but not leaning into him. “Hey, Dean,” Charlie says, tucked close into Sam’s other side, head cushioned on his chest.

“Hey, guys,” he says, feeling like he’s intruding on a private moment. He’s the only one that’s not in their pack, so he probably is.

“Hey,” Benny and Sam say at the same time. They reach across Castiel and flick each other in the arm with grins on their faces when they realize they spoke together.

“Last episode,” Charlie suddenly says. They all glance at the screen to see she’s already queued up the last episode of Game of Thrones. “Come on, come on, let’s watch!” Charlie glances at Dean with a grin. “Can you get the lights?”

Dean turns off all the lights, watching as they snuggle down with each other further, crunching on popcorn from two large bowls. Dean sits down on the sectional, stretching his legs out across the cushions, leaning back against one of the arm rests. He stares at the fire, listening to the opening theme of the show begin.

Dean glances down at them all again, an ugly jealousy curling in his chest. Sam is now nuzzling into Castiel’s side, and Castiel is petting his hair gently. Charlie is stretched out, her legs intertwined with Sam’s, propped up on an elbow, sipping from a frothy ice cream and soda drink. Benny is cuddled around Andrea, snuggling together under a thick blanket. They’re all warm and happy and feeling protected, comforted by everyone around them. Dean wishes he was tucked between them, wishes he was experiencing the same rush of good emotions.

He inhales slowly, trying to quell the jealousy inside of him. He huffs and stands up from the sectional, walking out of the room, heading for the kitchen. He plops down at the island in Castiel’s kitchen, glaring pointedly at the digital stove clock twinkling at him in a bright blue.

He’s being stupid. He could join them, he’s done it before, but he knows Charlie isn’t too happy with him since last time, neither is Sam; and Castiel is definitely not. Benny would welcome him, so would Andrea, but it would be weird to just snuggle up with them. He’d feel too much like a third wheel, actually be an intruder in their romantic moment.

“Dean.”

He jumps, twisting his abdomen to look over his shoulder. It’s Castiel, and he’s standing in the doorway of the kitchen, arms crossed over his chest. He doesn’t look happy, he looks quite annoyed actually. “What, now? I didn’t do anything.” Dean says, turning away. He rests his elbows on the counter, holding his head up with his head.

Castiel walks deeper into the room, coming to stand beside the island, staring at him. “Why did you leave?” he asks, voice carefully neutral.

“None of your fucking business,” Dean snaps, shooting him a glare. “I don’t have to sit there the whole fucking time and watch you guys be-” He cuts himself off with a huff. Castiel studies him quietly for a few minutes, eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

“Be, what?”

“Mushy,” Dean says, rolling his eyes. “Sappy. Ugly. Annoying. Take your pick.”

“That’s enough, Dean,” Castiel says, something steely creeping into his voice. “We are a pack. We are bonding. There is nothing sappy or ugly or annoying about what we are doing. If it upsets you so much to be excluded, perhaps it would be better if you joined us. You and I have our differences, but the rest of them would surely welcome you.”

“Fuck off,” Dean says, crossing his arms over his chest. He looks away, staring opposite Castiel, to the fridge. He’s getting so fucking mad now. He can’t join them. No, no, he doesn’t _want_ to join them. Except, Dean thinks bitterly, he totally fucking does. Castiel lets out the most disappointed sigh he’s ever heard, and something phantom twists unpleasantly in Dean’s chest.

“Stubborn,” he says to himself. He steps away from the island, moving towards the doorway. “Suit yourself. Sulk in here like a spoiled brat. We’ll be enjoying the show.”

“Screw you. I’m not a spoiled fucking brat,” Dean snaps, standing up and spinning around to glare at Castiel.

Castiel turns on his heel, and lets out a mocking laugh, left eyebrow arching upwards. “Clearly, you are,” Castiel says right back. “You’re a brat. You want everything your way. If something doesn’t go as you wanted it to then you bitch and fuss and act like a toddler. Grow up, Dean. You’re a man, an alpha, at least be somewhat respectable.”

Dean knows it’s a dumb idea, but he stills lunges for Castiel. The moment he takes him down to the floor, though, he remembers how much of a stupid idea it was last time. No going back, though, he thinks, as he slams his fist into Castiel’s jaw. That’s going to leave one hell of a fucking bruise, much more than last time.

Castiel doesn’t toy with him this time. He backhands Dean across the face, surprising him, and pins him to the ground on his stomach. Dean thrashes around in his hold, trying to pull his arms out of Castiel’s hands. Castiel presses his arms into his back, pinning him to the floor, much similar to the last time they fought. It’s barely been a minute, and Castiel already beat him.

And, even more humiliatingly, Castiel leans forward and sinks his teeth into his neck. Dean lets out a pathetic, horrified whine and slumps into the ground, letting himself fall lax in Castiel’s hold. His face flames, and he squeezes his eyes shut, wishing the ground would open up and swallow him whole. Once more, his body has betrayed him.

“What the hell is going on in here?” Benny’s booming voice comes suddenly. Dean’s heart starts pounding even faster, blood rushing in his ears. Benny rounds the corner, multiple other footsteps coming in after him. “What are-” Benny abruptly falls silent. Dean can feel his eyes on him, can feel the weight of Charlie’s and Sam’s and Andrea’s, too. His eyes sting behind his closed lids, and he just wants to fucking die.

Castiel slowly releases him, pulling his teeth away and sitting up. He loosens his grip on Dean’s arms but doesn’t move to stand up. “Are you done being a brat?” Castiel asks, calm and unbothered by their new audience. Dean’s hands tremble as he nods, cheek rubbing against the cool floor. “Good.” Castiel stands up, brushing himself off idly. “Get up.”

Dean’s arms tremble as he pushes himself off, his feet numb as they slide under him to support his weight. Dean stands there, hands at his sides, feeling like a dumbass. No one moves, no one speaks, they all stand there in a stunned silence. This is so much worse than last time. Dean’s mortified by the entire situation.

He spins on his heel and storms for the door, pushing past his brother’s broad shoulder as he does. He tugs his shoes on and snatches his jacket from where he left it. “Dean,” Sam calls, footsteps sounding behind him. Dean ignores him, yanking the door open and slamming it shut behind himself. He practically runs down the porch steps, the pathway, trying to get to his car as fast as possible.

He hears the front door open, hears Charlie call his name, Sam rushing out after him, tugging on a jacket to fight off the cold dampness in the air. Dean slides into his car, slamming the door shut, locking it. He jams his key in the ignition and turns it, his baby roaring to life right away. “Dean, come on, wait,” Sam says, coming to a stop beside his car.

Dean shifts gears and backs out of the driveway, putting the car in drive and pressing unnecessarily hard on the accelerator. Dean is never going to be able to look at any of them in the face again, especially not Castiel.

* * *

Sam calls him over thirteen times, trying to talk to him about that stupid night, and Dean screens each and every call. He does the same when Charlie starts trying, just after Sam gives up. Benny shoots him a text but he doesn’t bother opening it. They leave him alone after the second day, and maybe that makes him a little sadder.

Dean curls up on his couch and drinks from a bottle of whiskey, staring blankly at the screen. He’s more than a little tipsy now, but nowhere near drunk, and he wants to be drunk as fuck. He hears something jiggle in his front door lock and lifts his head. The door opens, and someone quietly walks inside. Oh, fuck, he should have never given any of them keys.

Sam pops up around the corner with a nervous smile, carrying three bags of groceries. “Hey, Dean,” he says, hesitant.

“Fuck off,” Dean says, throwing the pillow he was resting his head on at him. Sam ducks to avoid it, and rolls his eyes. He walks into the kitchen, setting the bags down on the counters. Dean stumbles to his feet and follows after him, ready to tell him to get the fuck out.

Charlie and Benny stride through his still open front door before he can even make it to the kitchen, holding a couple bags themselves. Benny shuts the door behind himself, and they both stand there for a second staring at him.

“What the fuck are you guys doing in my apartment?” Dean asks, taking another swig from the whiskey bottle.

“We came to check up on you,” Charlie says, shuffling into the kitchen to set her bags down. She snatches the bottle from his hand as she passes. “And eat an amazing meal from Benny while watching some quality old movies with you.”

Benny pats him on the back as he passes, shooting him a playful wink. “Come on, brother,” he says. “Start makin’ the salad.” Dean scrunches his face up. He hates salad. Benny grins toothily at him. He fucking knows Dean hates salad, the bastard.

Dean follows him into the kitchen because he’s an idiot who can’t say no to his friends. Though, that didn’t stop him from running away from them the other night. He’s cornered in his own apartment now, and he can’t find it in him to refuse their company, even if he does have to make the salad. Benny knows it too, shooting him a look from the corner of his eye every so often.

He gets a bowl from one of the top cupboards, setting it down on the counter too loudly. He winces by reflex, hoping he didn’t chip the bottom. He checks it and doesn't find anything, but it shows just how shaky he is. He walks to the fridge, dodging Sam as he moves across the kitchen. Dean bends down to look inside and curses quietly when his eyes go blurry for a second.

He’s not as sober as he thought, and being drunk and having to deal with everyone just seems like a punishment right now. He loves his friends dearly, and he’s glad for their company, but he wishes they came before he started drinking. Then, maybe, he’d be able to enjoy their company more.

He’s not in the mood for anything fancy, so he just takes out the first two tomatoes he sees, and a head of lettuce and cucumber. A simple salad is a good salad. He sets it down on the counter by the bowl and looks for a knife and cutting board.

Chopping the vegetables into small bits is not easy when he’s more than a little tipsy, but he focuses intensely on the knife as it slices through the vegetables, and hopes he doesn’t make a finger salad. He can feel a headache coming up now that he’s crashing down to reality, bottle of alcohol no longer there to comfort him, and the presence of his brother and friends a little too sudden to be comfortable.

He dutifully sets everything into the bowl, then freezes. He forgot to wash them. He curses, turning around to look at Benny, finding the man looking back at him, eyes crinkling at the corners with amusement.

Dean feels his face warm up and huffs quietly because Benny _knows_ he messed up, and he’s _laughing at him_. That little shit. Ah, hell, they can eat unwashed vegetables. Who cares. Hopefully, Benny will stay quiet about his mistake.

“Good job, Dean,” Benny says, clapping him on the back. Dean shoots him a glare, but Benny just grins at him. “You can go sit now, I’ll take care of the rest.”

Dean hesitates. He’s not ready to be alone with Sam and Charlie of them. They already weren’t happy with him - he thinks, and now… he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to act normal if they’re there. Heck, they literally saw him almost getting off to someone biting him, and that too _their_ pack alpha, and someone he supposedly hates.

Granted, they probably didn’t realise that he was affected by it. Still, it was plain humiliating to be seen like that, submitting to their alpha while face first on the floor. He can’t just waltz into the living room, even if it is his apartment, like everything’s fine and dandy and settle down without expecting them to say anything. Except, he can, and that’s exactly what they’d think he would do too.

“Dean,” Benny says his name, and Dean looks up, pulled away from his thoughts.

“Yeah?” he asks, swallowing to wet his throat which feels dry, and he looks around for a bottle of water as a distraction. Benny is too kind to say anything, but Dean just knows that he, even if Sam and Charlie and Andrea don’t, knows what happened in Castiel’s kitchen.

“Go sit,” Benny says, making a shooing motion with his hands. Dean hesitates, licking his lips. Benny turns back to his sauce on the stove, stirring it and adding some salt to the mix. Dean watches him move around the kitchen for a few minutes, throat tight and stomach turning.

“Why do you all love him that much anyway?” Dean blurts out.

Benny pauses for only a brief second, glancing over his shoulder at Dean. He hums lowly, and turns back to his sauce. “He’s a good alpha. He’s protected us all countless times, comforted us when we needed it, sacrificed his own time for us, proven himself to be a strong and honorable and kind leader,” Benny says in a gentle, patient tone.

Somehow, his tone almost makes Dean feel like Benny is treating him like a kid. Like the brat that Castiel called him. And it irks him, that he’s being treated like a volatile brat who’ll lash out when faced with logic, because it’s _true_. It’s all true. He’s useless, bratty, nothing but an annoyance who cries for attention then cries more when he gets it, because it’s not the attention he wants, not the attention he _needs_ , because Dean never gets what he wants, does he?

And everything that he has is also taken from him, taken away by a certain blue-eyed alpha who integrated almost every person Dean cares about into his happy little pack, who cuddles with them without worrying if it’ll make him seem girly.

“Okay,” he mumbles, running a hand through his hair. “I’m-” Dean clears his throat. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Benny.”

“Apology accepted,” Benny says simply. “Just don’t attack our pack alpha for a _third_ time, please.”

“I won’t. I-I promise.”

“Good,” Benny replies. “Now, get, you’re making my kitchen stink-”

“It’s _my_ kitchen-”

“-up with your emotions,” Benny continues like Dean interrupted him. “Go talk to Sam and Charlie.” Dean huffs, shooting Benny one last glare, more playful this time, before spinning on his heel and bracing him, walking into the living room.

Charlie and Sam are curled up together on the couch, watching some random channel. They glance at him when he comes in, sitting up and pulling away from each other. “Hey, guys,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. Charlie rolls her eyes at him and stands up, punching him firmly in the shoulder before wrapping her arms around him.

“Dumbass,” she says quietly to him. She lets go of him, letting Sam come around and pat Dean firmly on the back.

“I’m sorry, guys,” he says just as softly.

“We’re not the ones you should be apologizing to,” Sam says. “You owe Cas an apology, Dean.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mumbles. “And he’ll get one, alright? Just…” _not yet._

“We’re gonna watch My Fair Lady, first,” Charlie says, plopping down on the couch.

“Whatever you want,” Dean says, hesitantly sitting down beside her. Sam drops down on his other side, hesitating for a minute before casually throwing his arm around Dean’s shoulders. Charlie curls up into his other side, resting her head on his shoulder. Dean’s heart beats a little faster in his chest, and warmth spreads through him like a gentle caress.

They watch random clips of shows on the TV until Benny walks in with four bowls of mac and cheese, with a side of salad for each of them. He sets them all on the table and sits down beside Charlie. There’s just enough room on Charlie’s side for Benny to squeeze in. It’s a tight fit, because Charlie is the only small one of them, but they make it work. Charlie puts the movie on as they start to eat.

This is what he’s been missing.

* * *

Dean skips three of their show nights, just because he can’t bring himself to face Castiel. Sam gives giving him these puppy dog looks when he comes over, begging him to just get it over with, but Dean resolutely ignores them.

Charlie and Benny corner him in his apartment on the night of the fourth week he’s about to skip, and drag him to Sam’s place, determined to make him get it over with. He bitches and fusses the whole way there, ignoring the looks he keeps getting from his friends. He’s fucking nervous, scared, wondering if Castiel will just laugh at him.

Castiel isn’t there yet when they get up to Sam’s apartment. They sit on his big couch and bicker and cuddle and watch Youtube clips on the laptop Sam has connected to his TV. Castiel arrives about forty-five minutes later, knocking on the door. Everyone but Dean jumps up from the couch and goes to greet him, excited and happy to see their alpha again.

They all come around the corner a few minutes later, holding a big bucket of chicken and containers full of different sides. Castiel pauses mid-step when he sees Dean sitting on the couch, his blue gaze cutting into him with an intense and firm look. Then, Castiel nods sharply at him, giving him a tight smile, and sits down on the couch. Benny sits down between them, Sam on Castiel’s other side, and Charlie on Dean’s other side.

Sam loads up The Blacklist, putting it on pause as everyone gets their food on the plates Sam brings from the kitchen. Sam hits play when they all settle down, each of them crunching happily into their fried chicken with a bottle of beer.

They’re halfway through the second episode, all of them done eating, when Dean has to pee. He stands up and shuffles out of the room quickly, heading for the bathroom in the back of the apartment. He pees quickly, washing his hands in the sink. He leans his hands on the marble sink, staring at himself in the mirror. Dean sighs, drying his hands on a towel, then steps out of the bathroom.

“Dean,” Castiel says.

“Jesus Christ,” he says, spinning to look at him. Castiel is leaning against the wall beside the bathroom door, arms crossed over his chest. “Didn’t have to fuckin’ scare me, dude. Fuck.”

Castiel stares at him, gaze firm and steely, lips pressed together. He sighs then, running a hand through his messy dark brown hair. He shoots Dean a tired look, a small frown appearing on his face. “I’m sorry for the position I put you in last time. I didn’t mean to cause you any distress at being seen in such a way,” Castiel says, soft and careful.

“I’m sorry too,” Dean blurts, cheeks warming. Castiel studies him for a moment, then nods slowly, a small smile appearing on his face.

“I accept your apology,” he says. “I don’t enjoy fighting with you, Dean. I want us to get along.”

“Yeah, uh, same here,” Dean mumbles, rubbing his mouth area. Castiel keeps staring at him, his eyes lightening with amusement, a slow smirk spreading across his face. Dean clears his throat, face burning further, and turns to look down the hall. “We should, er, get back to them-” he tries.

“Mhmm,” Castiel hums, chuckling low and deep in his chest. He reaches his hand out, patting Dean firmly on the back, between his shoulder blades but a little too close to the nape of his neck. Dean bristles the moment he feels his hand on his back, his heart skipping a beat in his chest. “Yes, we should,” he replies quietly, roughly. Dean resists the urge to duck his head like a child and quickly walks back to the others, regret making his stomach turn as Castiel’s hand slips off his back and returns to his side.

Castiel is hot on his heels as they enter the living room, returning to their respective spots on the couch. Castiel’s arm goes around Benny’s shoulders, pulling the bigger man closer into his side. Castiel’s hand also lands on Dean’s left shoulder, and remains there throughout the rest of their night, a distracting and warm and oddly soothing presence.

* * *

A sharp series of knocks on his front door has him scrambling off his bed. Dean hastily throws on sweatpants and runs towards the door, wondering who the hell it could be. He yanks it open, and feels his stomach drop when he comes face to face with Castiel. “W-what are you doing here?” he says, his face warming up.

Castiel studies him silently for a moment, gaze drifting down to his bare chest and further to his sweatpants. He blinks a few times, then his eyes snap back up to look into Dean’s; amusement twinkles in their blue depths, his left eyebrow quirking up for a brief moment. That makes Dean frown. “I came for Charlie’s gaming system,” he says finally, stepping around Dean to enter into his apartment. “I believe she said she left it in your bedroom.”

“Wait-” Castiel ignores him, striding deeper into his apartment, towards the two rooms in the back. Dean curses loudly and slams the door shut, running after him. He stumbles into his room after Castiel, gulping loudly when he sees that Castiel’s eyes are locked on the bright orange knotting dildo and half-empty bottle of synthetic slick on the sheets.

Castiel blinks, and turns his eyes to Dean. He doesn’t look disgusted, or angry, or whatever a normal response to seeing an alpha with a dildo and slick and no beta or omega in sight is. “I-I- I can explain,” Dean says quietly, shyly, curling his toes into the ground, feeling horribly embarrassed.

Castiel chuckles and turns towards him, stalking in his direction slowly, footsteps careful, measured. “I’m sure you can,” he says, voice lower and huskier than usual. Dean swallows thickly, shuffling backwards nervously. Castiel crowds him against the wall beside his door, reaching his right hand out. “I’m also sure you can explain these pretty pink panties, huh?” Castiel continues, fingers hooking in the waistband of his pants and underwear. Dean looks down, wincing when he sees his sweatpants are too low on his hips, leaving the top of his panties visible.

Dean lifts his head, looking Castiel in the eye. The older alpha simply raises his left eyebrow, and steps even more into Dean’s space, pressing him firmly into the wall with his body. Dean shudders, tilting his head back until it rests against the wall. “I-”

“Shh, shh, shh.” Castiel presses a finger to his lips. “Be quiet, little alpha.” The name is said almost tauntingly. Dean bites his bottom lip and drops his head, ashamed. “None of that now,” Castiel continues, lifting his other hand and nudging Dean’s head up, his eyes following. “I want you to show me what you were going to do with that fake cock.”

“I- no-” Dean says quickly, eyes widening.

Castiel clucks his tongue and steps back several feet. “Show me,” he demands, voice heavy and loud, firm and warning. Dean whimpers, stomach fluttering, hands trembling, and pads over to the bed. “Take your pants off and get on your knees,” he says. Dean’s face turns redder but he complies, shoving his pants down and kicking them to the side. He kneels at the bottom of the bed and shuffles up until the tops of his feet touch the edge of the mattress. “Good boy,” Castiel coos from behind him. He shudders as the praise washes over him, heart pounding and blood rushing in his ears, cock twitching.

“Give me the bottle,” Castiel says. Dean grabs it from the bed and reaches back, placing it in his awaiting hand. He peeks over his shoulder, watching with wide eyes as he flicks it open and pours a generous amount onto his fingers, warming the gel in his hand. “Lower the back of your panties,” he instructs, eyes darting from his fingers to Dean’s ass to his face. “ _Now._ ”

Whimpering again, Dean reaches back, left side of his face pressing into the sheets, and tugs his panties down to just below his ass cheeks. His cock is just barely trapped in the pink material, and he can already feel his knot beginning to swell at the base of his cock. “Good,” Castiel mumbles, tossing the bottle onto the bed and placing his dry hand on Dean’s lower back. Dean bristles when Castiel rubs his index finger over his dry hole, digit slippery and warm.

“O-oh.” Castiel slowly works his finger into his ass, twisting and curling and stretching Dean wider. Dean squeezes his eyes shut and paws at the sheets until he can grab fistfuls of it. Castiel’s quick and efficient and skilled. He stretches him wide, managing to sink two fingers into his hole in less than thirty seconds. Dean clenches tightly around him, groaning softly, and spreads his legs further apart, arching his back. “Mngh,” he gasps as Castiel’s fingers brush against his prostate. “I-”

Castiel digs his fingers into his prostate, forcing a startled yelp from Dean’s throat and making his cock jerk and slid out of his panties. He moans softly as it smacks against his bare lower belly, dripping precum onto the sheets. Dean presses back against his fingers, rolling his hips and panting into the bed. “Pl-please,” he whispers.

A sharp smack lands on his left ass cheek.

Dean curses and jumps, clenching tightly around Castiel’s fingers. “Don’t be greedy,” Castiel says, disapproving. Dean’s stomach clenches tightly, his heart skipping a beat with fear from the disapproval. “You’ll get what I give you.”

A curse is on the tip of his tongue, but Dean holds back and tucks his face into the sheets. “Y-yes, sir,” he forces out instead, something tightening in his chest as the last word slips out. “I- Shit!” Castiel slides a third finger all the way inside him without warning. The burn is almost too much, and he almost crawls away from him, but then Castiel twists his fingers and rubs firmly against his prostate and Dean’s fucking back against him, gasping. He shudders when he hears a squirt and feels uncomfortably cold slick leak down his ass crack. Castiel guides it into him, the slick squelching loudly as he uses it to fuck in and out of Dean’s asshole.

Barely a minute later, he adds a fourth finger, getting him nice and spread and _wet._ God, he’s so wet, Dean almost feels like an aroused omega. “Fuck yourself with that fake cock,” Castiel instructs, voice heated and full of desire. Dean shudders and blindly reaches for the dildo, reaching back between his legs, bumping the tip against Castiel’s fingers. Castiel twists his fingers inside him once more, then pulls them out. He squirts lube all over the dildo and uses his messy hand to spread it around, then helps Dean guide the fake cock into his hole.

It’s thick but Castiel stretched him enough that it doesn’t feel like he’s going to be ripped apart as it slides in. The knotting aspect might be a whole different deal, though. “Come on, little alpha,” Castiel says, sounding breathless. He moves his hand from Dean’s back to his hip, gripping it tightly to hold him in place. “Fuck yourself.” Dean swallows dryly and spreads his legs wider, using his left hand to brace himself against the bed, forehead pressing into the sheets. He grips the end of the dildo tightly and pulls it out slowly, pushing in, pulling out, pushing in. It’s so big, and it’s been so long since he’s done this, and god, it feels so _gooood_.

Castiel smacks his right ass cheek, forcing a surprised cry from Dean. He hears slick noises, and whimpers when he realizes Castiel’s jerking himself off. Dean rolls his hips down, clenching tight around the dildo and fucking against it enthusiastically. It’s difficult, so fucking difficult, but it feels so good so he ignores the aching that quickly starts in his arm and hand and fucks the dildo in and out of his ass.

He’s so close already. He’s so fucking _close_.

Dean keens, thighs quivering. His cock absolutely aches, hanging swollen and throbbing needily between his thighs, neglected. “Pl-please, god, fuck, I’m- I-” Castiel nudges his hand away, and grips the base of the dildo. Dean’s hand drops between his knees, and he leaves it there. He wants a hand on his cock, but he doesn’t want to move his left hand and his right is aching. Castiel pounds the dildo in and out of his ass, clicking the only button at the end of the dildo to start the knotting process. Dean chokes on a breath, feeling the end of the dildo slowly getting bigger and bigger and bigger and- “Oh, fuck!” Dean cries out and comes messily, fumbling to grab the base of his cock and grip his knot. The dildo’s fake knot presses almost painfully inside him, thick and unforgiving and so fucking good.

Minutes later, Castiel grunts loudly and come splatters onto Dean’s exposed ass and lower back, coating him thoroughly in Castiel’s seed. For a moment, there’s only the sound of them breathing heavily, knots throbbing in the aftermath of their orgasms, aching from the lack of hole to squeeze them. Dean whines softly, thighs quivering weakly. His swollen knot aches and pulses as he lets go of it. Castiel tugs the panties up over his marked and knotted ass.

The knot inside of him is so big and he feels so full and he doesn’t wanna move. He blinks his eyes open, frowning at the blurriness that greets him. Castiel pulls his hand away from his hip slowly, moves away and washes himself off in Dean’s attached bathroom. Dean listens as he walks back in the room, tucking himself back in his pants and adjusting his clothes, zipping his slacks up.

Neither of them say anything.

Dean slides forward on the bed until he’s lying down on his front, moaning softly as the dildo moves inside of him. Castiel grabs the gaming system from wherever the hell Charlie left it and stands in the doorway of his bedroom. “Goodbye, Dean,” he says softly, warmly; almost tenderly.

“‘Bye, Cas,” he whispers, voice thick. Footsteps drift away, and the front door opens and closes firmly seconds later. Dean’s eyes burn with unshed tears.

* * *

The very next day just so happens to be their weekly show night.

Dean ponders about dropping Charlie a text saying he can’t make it, wondering if it’ll make him seem like a little bitch to Castiel. In the end, he doesn’t do it, just makes the drive over to Benny’s house. Benny’s still caught up at work but Andrea’s home with their little nine month old munchkin, Belle.

Dean sits down and plays with her, letting Andrea take a much needed break for herself. The doorbell rings about twenty minutes after he arrived, so he picks up Belle and heads to answer to door, making funny faces at her and trying to hold back a smile when she laughs.

He opens the door and comes face to face with Castiel.

Great. The universe hates him.

Castiel barely acknowledges him, turning his sweet blue eyes to Belle and plucking her from Dean’s arms with a warm hello and a wet kiss. Belle squeals and clings to him, making little smacking noises with her lips. Dean steps back to let him inside, shutting the door as Castiel kicks his shoes off, using his foot to push them into the corner.

“Help me, would you?” Castiel says, holding Belle with one arm, trying to shrug out of his trench coat. Dean clears his throat and helps him pull the coat off when he realizes Castiel isn’t going to hand him Belle. He hangs it up on a hook above the shoes. Castiel holds Belle with his left arm and reaches his other out, hooking two fingers under Dean’s chin and lifting his head up so his throat is a little more exposed. He leans closer, dark eyes twinkling in the dim foyer lighting. “Thank you,” he says, a small smile playing the edges of his lips.

“You’re welcome,” Dean replies quietly, averting his gaze, feeling shy. Castiel chuckles and pulls his hand away, stepping around Dean and heading into the living room. Andrea comes down from upstairs as he moves to follow after Castiel, looking a lot more relaxed and happy. She kisses Dean on the cheek, hugging him tightly.

“Thank you for taking care of her,” she says, walking into the living room with him. “Castiel! When did you get here?”

“Just now,” he answers, standing up and walking over to hug her tightly. “How are you, Andy?”

“I’m good,” she says, running her hand through his messy hair. “You look tired, Cas, are you okay?”

“Just got off work,” he says, smiling slightly. Andrea sighs and pats his cheek, scooping Belle up from the couch.

“Come on, I’ll make you boys some hot cocoa. Benny should be home soon too, by the way.” She leads them into the kitchen, directing them to sit at the island, handing Belle to Dean before beginning to make them homemade hot chocolate. Dean sets her down on the counter, tickling her and watching as she squeals and squirms.

He jumps a little when he feels something touch his thigh. He glances down under the counter, and feels his heart start beating faster when he sees Castiel’s hand on his thigh. He glances at Castiel, who looks right back at him calmly, his eye gleaming with something devious. Dean clenches his jaw and turns his attention back to Belle, watching silently as her eyes start to droop.

Dean closes his eyes as Castiel’s hand drifts between his thighs, squeezing lightly, and begins to move upwards towards his crotch. He curls his toes around the bottom footrest bar of the chair, tensing his thighs as Castiel’s hand bumps against his crotch. He bites his bottom lip, dropping his left hand down to grab Castiel’s right wrist. Castiel stills, and remains unmoving until Dean loosens his grip on his wrist, and eventually pulls his hand away. It almost feels like a reward when Castiel responds to his action by squeezing his cock through his jeans.

He covers his startled moan with a cough, opening his eyes and staring wide-eyed at a confused, sleepy Belle. He scrambles to his feet quietly, picking Belle up and refusing to look at Castiel. “Hey, uh, I’m gonna put Belle down for a nap. Is that okay?”

“Sure,” Andrea replies from over her shoulder. “Make sure she has her baby monitor on, and her black cat plushie.”

“Okay,” Dean mumbles.

“I’ll help,” Castiel suddenly says, standing and following Dean out of the room. Shit. Castiel doesn’t say anything as they walk into Belle’s nursery. He turns the light on for Dean, and just stands to the side watching as Dean sets her down in her crib, tucking her in with her plushie.

Dean turns the monitor on, and steps back, watching her for a moment to make sure she’s really asleep. She is. He turns her mobile on, and the nightlight too, then shuffles out of the room with Castiel. He flicks the light off and leaves the door open ajar.

The moment he lets go of the door, Castiel pins him against the wall, pressing up firmly against his back. Dean shudders and resists the instinctive urge to push him off. Castiel noses at his neck for a second, licking at his scent glands - _marking him_ , and Dean’s stomach flips nervously, excitedly. He gasps softly as Castiel’s teeth lightly sink into his neck, and practically melts between the wall and Castiel’s body, head moving further to the side to give the other alpha more room.

Castiel growls softly, and bites a little harder. Dean shudders and feels his cock twitch and harden against the wall. Castiel shoves a hand between Dean’s body and the wall, forcing him to press even harder back against him. Castiel groans quietly, rolling his hips against Dean’s ass, and slides his hand into Dean’s pants, bypassing his cock to squeeze his balls instead. Dean whines and feels his thighs tremble at the firm grip, his hips wiggling.

Castiel releases his skin from his mouth, licking lightly at the marks he no doubt left behind. “Turn around slowly,” he says gruffly, tightening his hold on Dean’s balls. With a quiet whimper, Dean does as told, slowly turning around, Castiel’s grip remaining firm on his balls. Castiel pins him against the wall the moment they’re facing each other, his forearm pressing into Dean’s collarbones. “Good boy,” he coos at him, eyes dark.

“Fuck,” Dean whispers, breathless.

“Language,” Castiel chides, tilting his head to the ajar door beside them. “There are children near.” Dean squeezes his eyes shut, blood rushing in his ears. “Does it hurt?” Castiel asks in a low, heated voice then, almost sinisterly. Unable to speak, Dean nods slowly, tears prickling his eyes behind his closed lids. “Good.” Dean swallows thickly. “This is mine. All of it,” he lets go of his balls and squeezes his knot. “Don’t you dare touch yourself again without my permission. Clear?”

Dean’s thighs quiver, his stomach clenching tightly, cock pulsing with want. “Yes, alpha,” he whispers, his voice coming out soft and sweet and… and _submissive_. Castiel releases his hold on his cock, pulling his hand out of his pants. He grasps Dean’s hips in his hands, and leans forward, pressing a small kiss to the tip of his nose.

“Good boy,” he whispers, rubbing their noses together a couple times. Something unfamiliar and warm swirls throughout Dean’s body at his words. “Straighten yourself up and come downstairs in three minutes.” Castiel steps back abruptly. Dean opens his eyes, staring into amused, affectionate dark blue eyes for just a brief second, before Castiel spins on his heel and skips silently down the stairs without a look back.

Dean adjusts himself in his pants, running his hands through his hair, breathing deeply for a few minutes. He walks down the stairs slowly, heading for where he hears voices in the living room. He sits down carefully beside Castiel on the couch, pressing himself into the armrest. Andrea is chatting animatedly about something, but it sounds like white noise to Dean. Castiel is listening intently to her, giving Andrea all of his attention.

The door opening and closing cuts through Dean’s moment of nothing. Benny’s voice booming out a greeting to the house. Andrea stands up excitedly, running her hands through her hair, smoothing her clothes. She’s genuinely happy to see her partner, can’t wait to. She excuses herself politely, quickly and disappears out of the room to see him, probably intent on greeting Benny with a proper kiss before Castiel or Dean can see them.

Castiel turns to him as she leaves the room, leveling him with a heavy gaze, watching him closely for something. He reaches his hand out, settling it on his knees, squeezing gently. “Are we still good here, Dean?” he asks softly. Dean licks his lips and nods, dropping his eyes to his lap, staring down at Castiel’s long-fingered, veiny hand. “We’ll discuss this in more detail later. I’ll be by your apartment tomorrow at eight in the morning. You’ll be awake and ready for me. Understand?”

“Yes, alpha,” Dean mumbles. With that, Castiel stands up, lifting his hand from Dean’s knee as he does. He ruffles Dean’s hair with that hand, then steps around his feet and heads to greet Benny as he comes around the corner, still dressed in his EMT outfit. Dean breathes deeply, once, twice, then plasters on a smile and stands up, hugging Benny tightly, and taking comfort in his woodsy, slightly sweaty, scent. Benny leans back from the hug, studying him for a moment, but his expression doesn’t give away his thoughts. Dean brushes it off when Benny just smiles at him a second later and goes to freshen up.

Castiel doesn’t acknowledge him after that, not for more than a couple seconds at a time.

**Author's Note:**

> i decided to leave this here, open-ended and all, in case i feel like coming back and adding more. anyways thank you for reading! comment and kudo please :)


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